


Part of Me

by raebands



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depression, M/M, Protective Gabriel, Psychological Trauma, Self-Hatred, Songfic, Sort Of, Torture, Trauma, Trauma From Lucifer's Cage (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 21:23:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19876291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raebands/pseuds/raebands
Summary: Sam Winchester will always be haunted by Lucifer, no matter how much time has passed.





	Part of Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first piece of serious Supernatural writing. I'm rather proud of it, actually. Though it's pretty depressing... 
> 
> I wrote this piece to go with the song Gabriel by Bear's Den. As soon as I heard it, I was inspired to write this. Exploring Sam's trauma and having Gabriel comfort him was very interesting. Anyway, there are several references to the song lyrics throughout the fic, and it'll probably be easiest to enjoy it if you've heard the song.

Nights are always the worst. Every thought is amplified by the silence and the darkness. There is no escape from the demons that haunt the mind. The mind of a broken man. A man, who was once confident and strong, now shattered into a million different pieces, unable to be glued back together. No amount of grace could fix this. 

The demons swirl, whispering damaging words that twist about, spreading the pieces of the splintered mind further and further apart. The shards will never be joined together again. The edges no longer match. There is no chance that they will ever be reunited.

One demon in particular spends an unholy amount of time in the fragmented mind. This is the demon that caused the split. Torture is this demon's only hobby, and the skill involved overflows any healthy amount. It is this demon who can be blamed for the broken man's instability. All the sleepless nights, the nightmares, and the sense of worthlessness originated from this demon.

And that demon's name is -

"Gabriel!" The broken man shouts as he sits upright in his bed, unable to take the pain and pressure of being alone for another second.

No, the demon's name isn't Gabriel. Gabriel is an angel. A saviour. Someone who protects the broken man from the demon.

The door opens moments later. The angel wasted no time. He never does when it comes to the broken man. He stands, silhouetted in the doorway. A few shuffles later, the door is closed. The angel joins the broken man on the bed.

Strong and steady hands pull the broken man to lean against the angel's chest. Quiet whispers calm the former's pounding heart. He trembles in the arms of his saviour, clasping onto him tightly. Wetness seeps from the broken man's hair onto the angel's clothes, but he doesn't care. He is never concerned with how he looks around the man. His deep fondness for the man prevents any thoughts about his appearance from taking over his mind.

"It was him," the broken man says, a secret whispered into the angel's shoulder. "Lucifer."

_That_ is the demon's name. Lucifer. The demon who has tortured the man for years, ripping out everything that he's ever loved. Tearing apart the man's personality and replacing it with a broken shell of who he once was.

The angel hushes him, telling him that he will be okay. Reassuring him that this won't be the end. He's there. The angel will protect his broken man.

"He'll leave you alone now," the angel assures softly. "I'm here."

The broken man turns his head up and looks at his saviour. His eyes are deep pools of sadness, dark in the dim room.

"It's a part of me, Gabriel," he whispers, brows furrowing. "I-I... I wish I could deny it. But... he lives inside of me. Every day. And I can hear him.... screaming in the night."

The angel closes his eyes, frowning. Sorrow fills his bones. Sorrow for what the man has lost. He knows that now is the time to listen. The man doesn't need to hear ways to make it better. He doesn't need the problem to be solved in this moment. What the broken man needs is an angel's ear to listen to his plight.

"It's like... wherever I go, he's always there," the man continues, holding ever tighter onto his consoler. "He's never far behind. I always lose against him. And when I'm alone, in the dark at night, we... we combine. We're the same." 

A silence falls over the two of them as they huddle closer. The angel strokes over the broken man's hair, comforting him in the way he knows works best. His heart is breaking for the man. Things similar to this have happened to the two of them before, but the angel has never seen him quite like this before. This is a new experience.

"Is this all I am?" The man's voice cuts through the quiet.

The angel tries to reassure him; he needs to know that he is more than just a vessel. More than just a hurt man who can't be saved.

"All that he's won, is what I've lost," the man continues.

At this point, the angel knows that there must be something he can do. It's impossible for him to just leave it like this. He has to do something.

"How can I help you?" 

The broken man is quiet. Silent. He is unsure of how to answer. He just really needs the angel to listen to him. To hear him out, and understand what he’s feeling. 

_“Can’t you see the shape I’m in?”_ He asks in his head. But those are not the words that come from his mouth. 

“Just don’t leave me,” he whispers instead. “Don’t leave me alone.”

The angel has no plans of leaving. Not when he can see that the man is so fragile. So close to completely shattering in this moment. The angel can always tell when the broken man needs him the most, and it is evident that now is one of those times. 

A few long moments drag by in silence. The only sounds are those of the man’s heartbeat and the soft breaths as he attempts to calm the frantic pounding of his chest. The angel keeps himself close to the man, his arms wrapped around him. 

The broken man somehow looks small despite his large stature. He is tucked up into a ball, curled as close to the angel as he can get. It’s something of a mystery. How does such a large man make himself so small? The answer is surprisingly simple. Pain and fear have beaten him down to the point that his body is just a shell. A shell that has a nasty habit of crumpling in on itself. 

Angel hands trail up and down the man’s back to comfort him. The pain that the man feels fills the room. It’s a heavy sensation. Like the air itself is too thick to breathe. Even the angel has to fight it, his chest feeling tight. 

Time passes. No more than ten minutes. The man takes a deeper breath than those he’s been able to take. The energy in the room hasn’t changed, but something else has been added to the mix. Some sort of tension. It’s the feeling that occurs when someone is about to say something. 

“I don’t even know who I am anymore,” the man’s cracking voice breaks the heavy tension. “I’m… foreign to myself. A stranger in the dark, a, a face I barely recognize.” 

A sharp intake of breath splits his sentence. Try as he might, the broken man is not able to keep himself from crying. Voicing his thoughts just makes it even harder to stop the rivulets of tears rolling down his thin face. They make the dangerous leap from his chin, crashing onto the fabric of the angel’s shirt and dampening it. 

“I’m not myself anymore,” the broken man continues. “When I look into the mirror, it isn’t just a shadow of who I used to be. I’ve left behind an entire life. I… I hate the person I am now.”

Truthfully, the broken man despises himself. He abhors the things that he has done. All the people he has damaged. All those who lost their lives because of him. There’s nothing left for him to like about himself. He’s just too crippled at this point to even really consider himself a whole person in the first place. How can anyone love someone this mangled? 

“Will I ever be able to reconcile it?” The man whispers into the dark, clutching onto the angel tighter. “All that I’ve done? The people I’ve hurt, or gotten killed?”

The angel’s frown deepens. He’s unsure of what to say. There are so many things he should say. He should be reassuring the man. 

“Is this…. All I ever was?” The broken man croaks out, his voice weak and rough. “Was this all I was ever supposed to be? A… a tool? Something to use to hurt people? I’m just his vessel, right?” 

The angel can barely believe the words coming from the man’s mouth. After all the good that he has done, he still believes that he isn’t good? He remains convinced, after all the good he’s done with his life, that he was only made with one purpose. An awful purpose. And it’s just not true. Not in the slightest. 

“No,” the angel whispers, his hand slowly moving over the man’s hair in a comforting way. “No, that isn’t all you are. That’s not what you are at all.” 

Anger bubbles up inside the angel. The fact that the man in his arms has been put through this much and has had all of this weight piled onto his shoulders enrages him. It isn’t right for his father to do this to anyone, and surely not someone like this. 

“You are a hero,” he goes on, still holding the broken man close to him. “You’ve saved the entire world. A few times, actually. You’re made for greatness, and you’ve achieved it. You are _so_ strong. The strongest person, human or otherwise, that I’ve ever met.”

The angel isn’t sure if it’s helping at all, or if it’s just annoying the man. Regardless, it needs to be said. The broken man needs to hear and understand just how amazing he is. He should know what he means to his family. To the world. 

The broken man remains silent, unconvinced. He appreciates what he’s trying to do, but it just doesn’t help. He’s heard this before. There’s nothing new in what the angel is saying, and because of that, it doesn’t have any effect on him or how he feels. It’s just the same old recycled words. Though he knows the angel is trying to help, he can’t stop the almost bitter feeling coming up in his throat. 

He doesn’t know how to say that it doesn’t help. He doesn’t want to sound rude. There’s no part in his body that wants to hurt the angel. He just wishes he would stop. 

“Won’t you hear me out, Gabriel?” The broken man says softly, still curled up against the angel. 

The one thing he really needs right now is company. Not words. Not actions. Just simple closeness with someone who cares about him. 

“Can’t you see the shape I’m in? That’s… not helping. Words won’t help. Just…. Don’t leave me alone. Just don’t leave me alone….” 

So the angel does just that. He falls silent. Closeness is what his broken man needs, and closeness is what he will give to him. 

They stay this way throughout the night. The angel acts as the broken man’s saviour, keeping the demon at bay. He may not be able to piece the shards back together, but he can keep the man’s mind from splitting further. And that will have to be enough.


End file.
